


Chainmail

by skivvysupreme



Series: The Cuffed Verse [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Bullying, Cheerio Blaine, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Past Violence, Skank Kurt Hummel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 11:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3409055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skivvysupreme/pseuds/skivvysupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skank!Kurt gets to know Cheerio!Blaine a little better, but this isn’t at all how he wanted to do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chainmail

From the moment Kurt woke up this morning, to the moment he showed up at school to find Blaine at his locker, and now, as he lays on the Skanks’ ugly sofa, smoking under the bleachers, Kurt’s body has refused to listen to him.

He wills himself to stop blushing, pressing his palms to his warm cheeks to cover them, but then he thinks of how Blaine’s hands had felt on his face and in his hair, pulling him close but apparently never close enough for Blaine’s liking.

Kurt blushes harder.

He’s tried to stop smiling, or to make the damn thing smaller, but when he presses his lips together to contain it, he imagines Blaine’s lips instead, and their eager, firm pressure behind soft skin. Kurt does manage to stop smiling, but when Quinn gets a look at his scrunched-up face and asks what’s wrong with him, he _squeaks_.

And then, of course, he blushes again.

Now, he stares at his black jeans, still hanging by their back loop from the handcuffs on the bleachers, and his stomach does a funny little flip as he pictures Blaine’s heated expression when the two of them pulled and peeled Kurt out of his pants.

Kurt would _hate_ Blaine if he weren’t already in love with him.

He’s skipping American history again, waiting for Quinn and Puck to meet him so he can unlock and get his pants back. Last night’s coffee date with Blaine replays in his head. Blaine’s unwavering attention, and that kiss… _ugh._ Kurt sighs and shuts his eyes just as he hears footsteps shuffling across the dirt nearby.

“About time, guys,” Kurt says, though even as it leaves his mouth, he notices that there was only one set of footsteps.

The response is a sniffle and a very small, “Kurt?”

Kurt sits up and looks over his shoulder. It’s Blaine, staring somewhere near Kurt’s feet with his shoulders hunched like he’s trying to take up as little space as possible, which is so unlike the wildfire of confidence Kurt has experienced that it immediately unsettles him. The blue slushie covering Blaine’s head and shoulders, dripping down the red and white design of his Cheerios uniform like some fucked-up British flag, is almost— _almost_ —secondary. Blaine is shaking, and Kurt knows it has nothing to do with the ice sliding down his back and seeping into his clothes.

Rage bursts hot in Kurt’s chest, and he takes one last, long drag on his cigarette before throwing it to the ground and smashing it under his boot. Someone’s gonna hang from the flagpole by their balls for this.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go, they cornered me when I came out of the locker room and they blocked the bathroom and I saw the exit and I—“

“Blaine, stop, it’s… it’s not okay, but _you_ will be.” It’s all Kurt can do to keep his tone soft when he wants to burn the whole fucking school down for still allowing shit like this to happen.

Blaine moves to fold his arms over his chest, but his whole upper half is covered in thick blue syrup, so he lets his arms hang awkwardly near his sides, unable to console himself. “I can’t go back in there, they’ll see me, a-and the school, _everyone_ —“

Kurt has so many questions—Blaine’s _captain_ of the Cheerios, for fuck’s sake, why would they do this to him?—but he takes Blaine’s sticky hand and whispers, “Screw everyone. Just come with me.” 

*****

The sink in the girls’ bathroom—empty, with the door locked, and that’s Quinn’s doing—will probably be stained blue by the end of all this. Blaine sits in a chair in front of it with his head tilted back as Kurt works his fingers through the slushie and hair gel. His Cheerio shirt hangs off the sink next to them, but he’s still wearing his white undershirt despite the blue splotches that managed to soak through the fabric.

“You have gorgeous hair. I didn’t know it was this curly,” Kurt says, gently twisting a curl around his finger.

“Wait until it dries, then see what you think of it,” Blaine sighs. Kurt’s ministrations have soothed him a little. “I like your hair better. Pink and brown and gravity-defying and doesn’t make you look like broccoli.”

“Shut up. I like broccoli.”

The corners of Blaine’s lips quirk up into a sad little smile. “Someone saw us this morning.”

Kurt pauses for only a second before he resumes massaging Blaine’s scalp. Blaine had been leaning against Kurt’s locker when he arrived that morning, wearing Kurt’s hoodie under his windbreaker.

_“Good morning!”_

_Fuck, that smile. Kurt already knows he’ll never be over it. “Yes, it is,” he says, leaning against the row of lockers to face him._

_They just stand there, taking each other in, until Blaine says, “I have to get to class, but I just wanted to let you know how comfortable your hoodie is.”_

_Kurt raises one amused eyebrow. “You came to my locker just to tell me that?”_

_Blaine kisses him. It’s quick, but it still leaves a tingle, and Kurt sucks his own bottom lip between his teeth trying to hold onto it. He tries to maintain his most dignified expression, but he knows his dimples are selling him out._

_“Yep. Just to tell you that,” Blaine grins, walking backwards away from him._

Kurt honestly hadn’t thought about it at the time, but then, Kurt stopped giving a fuck a long time ago.

“Someone said—they called me… um. I knew what was going to happen, right then, but then they threw a slushie in my face before I could do anything. And I—it reminded me of… I just dropped, I got in a ball on the ground, and that’s when the rest of them dumped their slushies on me. At least four of them. I couldn’t even see who it was.”  

Kurt sees the tears collecting in Blaine’s long, pretty eyelashes as his voice shakes and goes higher, but he keeps massaging. He’s not even trying to wash Blaine’s hair at this point—getting the awful mix of slushie and gel out is futile without a decent conditioning shampoo—but he feels how unsteady Blaine is under his fingers. Kurt wants him to feel less of his hurt and fury and disappointment, but it’s hard when Kurt feels all the same things. Blaine deserves to feel what he feels about this, but he doesn’t deserve for anyone to _make_ him feel like this. Kurt has been at this McKinley bullshit a lot longer than Blaine has; as he rubs and scratches, Kurt imagines he can soak up some of the awful feelings for him.

Kurt’s not usually this delusional. Ugh, maybe he really does love this boy already.

“I transferred to my last school because I was trying to escape bullies. Something really bad happened and then there was Dalton, and it was zero-tolerance, and everyone was equal. But I wanted to stop running, so I came back to public school, and… I joined the Cheerios because I thought, uniforms protect people, right?”

Kurt glances at his own pink hair in the mirror and says nothing.

“I got too comfortable. I should have known.”

“Known what? This isn’t anybody’s fault but those pricks who attacked you.”

“I’ve heard that before.” The tears spill over in Blaine’s eyes. “Why does it keep happening?”

Kurt doesn’t know. He’s never known, because a key factor in senseless hatred is that it makes no fucking sense. He turns off the faucet and drops into Blaine’s lap, straddling him, then pulls Blaine into a tight hug.

Blaine buries his face in Kurt’s shoulder, muffling himself, and wraps his arms around Kurt’s back. His wet, still-sticky hair is pressed against Kurt’s cheek, but Kurt doesn’t care. He just rubs Blaine’s back, the side of his face and his shoulder getting soaked, and asks, “Have you ever skipped school before?”

Blaine shakes his head.

“Teacher’s pet,” Kurt teases. “We have a couple stops to make first, but then we’re leaving, okay? This shitshow doesn’t deserve us.”

Blaine nods with a wet little laugh. “Lead the way.”

*****

Coach Sue casts a confused glare at Kurt and Blaine when they enter her office, but she hits the goddamn _roof_ when she sees Blaine’s blue-stained uniform. They’re dropping off his shirt to get it sent for dry-cleaning as soon as possible; he’s still wearing the red pants, though no part of his uniform escaped the splatter. Sue demands names, but when Blaine can only identify them as football players, she turns on the intercom microphone on her desk and calls Coach Bieste to her office.

Sue hands Blaine a whole new uniform. “I’ve heard Sarah McLachlan wailing her sad animal song ever since you walked in here. Get out of my office,” she says to Blaine, though it’s not with her usual vitriol. “Porcelain,” she nods at Kurt.

Kurt nods back, knowing they both mean _thanks, I’ll take it from here_ and that Sue’s unusual level of affection for him hasn’t faded.

The boys retrieve their things from their lockers in the empty hallway, and Kurt wraps Blaine in his hoodie again. Blaine puts the hood up over his hair, which isn’t puffing up like it normally would with all the crap that’s still in it, and Kurt zips it all the way up. Blaine burrows into it a little.

As much as Kurt wants to kiss him, because _the hallway’s empty but that doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t_ , and everyone in this hellhole of a school can fuck off, he gets that Blaine might not welcome that right now. So, he takes Blaine’s hand instead, and they head to their next stop.

“’Sup, dudes?” Puck says when they reach the bleachers. Quinn looks Blaine up and down as she lights a cigarette, but her glance doesn’t last any longer than it normally would, and she returns to her task.

Blaine’s quiet, still making himself small, so Kurt squeezes his hand, a silent _you’re safe with us_ as he sighs, “I want my pants back, Puck.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” Puck walks over to the abandoned jeans with a tiny silver key and unlocks them from both the handcuffs and the bleachers. “Have fun with those,” he smirks, tossing the cuffs and the clothes to Kurt.

Blaine laughs, ducking his head and blushing.

Kurt rolls his eyes and throws the jeans onto his shoulder, because folding and putting them in his bag would require letting go of Blaine.

“Hey, I’m having a party tonight. You in, Anderson?”

Blaine looks surprised at Puck’s invitation. “Um, who’s going to be there?”

Puck shrugs. “Not douchebags.”

Kurt turns to Blaine and squeezes his hand again. “You don’t have to. If you wanted to stay in and watch movies or something, I’d stay in with you.”

Blaine stares at Kurt for a second with his mouth dropped open, appreciation and awe softening his features like he can’t believe Kurt exists. “We’ll be there,” he says, grinning at Puck, who holds out his fist for Blaine to bump.

It has taken approximately twenty-two hours for Kurt and Blaine to become “we.” Things are progressing quickly, to say the least.


End file.
